


Christmas Calendar 2011

by Xobit



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-02
Updated: 2012-05-02
Packaged: 2017-11-04 17:23:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 14,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/396313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xobit/pseuds/Xobit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A writing challenge I gave myself in December 2011, write a dabble a day. It consists of unrelated dabbles written from a list of prompts tied to numbers from 1 to 25.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1\. First time, first gift, first kiss… anything first

Fingers stirred the surface of the clear still water, and Hound smiled as his reflection wavered and then broke up. Pulling his hand back, he looked at the droplets that clung stubbornly to his plating, turning his hand this way and that as he watched them slide and leave behind glinting trails. It was all so strange… so different. 

Turning his head, he looked out over the plain, flat and yet not. To him it was like standing on a vast, gently curving armor plate. So different from his home! The jagged peaks of the Vos mountains, and the steep canyons that were like gaping scars between them.

The grassoids covering it were like the mythical fur that organics were supposed to grow on their chassis, if that was true at least. Or so he imagined. 

Maybe this wouldn’t be so terrible… 

“You don’t have to hunt, you know?” The voice was that of a stranger, but Hound didn’t jump, they were all strangers here. For something as rare as a flightless seeker, being out of Vos was… strange in all aspects. 

“This is the first time I have seen still water.” Lifting his head, he sniffed the air, and found it as dry as it had been a moment ago. The air was never dry near the water in Vos. 

“This is the first time I have seen someone so thoroughly enjoying the plains of Praxus.” The amused reply was still a little shy, still a little… Hound turned his head to look at the speaker and saw someone who could have been a seeker if not for the fact that he sported no wings. He had the colors, though, and the limber, slim frame.

“It is the first time I’ve seen flat land, too.” He offered. 

“A lot of firsts, then?” A smile, then, as subtle as the rest of what this stranger had shown him so far.

“Everything is a first here. I am Hound, a flightless seeker.” The golden optics widened a little, and he couldn’t help that his dermas pulled into a half-smile. 

“I am Mirage, a flightless noble.” Mischief flared in the golden optics, and Hound rose, both physically and to the challenge, clasping the slim hand and arm in a seeker greeting, his hand closing just above the other’s elbow joint. 

“Hello, Mirage, the first noble I have ever met… my first friend of Praxus?” He knew that his own dark blue optics were laughing, he could hear the bubbling happiness in his own voice.

“Hello, Hound, I am honored to be your first.” And his new friend was laughing too.


	2. Art Project

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2\. Favorite Couple

“No, not them.” Sideswipe gave his twin a sidelong glance as the mumble for a moment rose to become something understandable. He considered pressing for information, but decided against it when his glance fell down to rest on the special pad held in the yellow hands. It was never wise to rip Sunstreaker out of his artsy moods. 

“What is he up to?” Ratchet’s inquiry was a little bit grouchy, their lover had been dozing on the berth for about half a joor. 

“I have no idea, and I am not going to poke him when he is drawing.” Cheerfully sticking his glossa out at the medic, he grinned cheekily. The medic grumped but in the end he just turned over and slipped back into his interrupted nap.

Rare… this was such a rare occasion. No battle damage to patch up for their lovely medic, no Decepticons attacking anything for over an Earth week. They had managed to coax Ratchet to leave the medbay in First Aid’s hands for a while, to just be with them.

No frenzied lovemaking, much as he loved that, no desperate attempts to reassure each other that they were all whole and hale. No scolding, no fear… 

It was nice, almost normal. He couldn’t help but turn his thoughts to all the other’s around the Ark. Did Hound miss Mirage a lot? The noble had been sent off to see why the Decepticons were so calm currently. How were Red Alert and Inferno doing, the security director had to be tense as a bow string. 

He felt a flare of frustration and flickered his optics in momentary confusion until he realized it wasn’t his own. It wasn’t Ratchet’s either… the medic looked to be truly out of it this time, getting some much needed costless rest now that he could. 

Sunstreaker? His twin was still muttering, optical ridges furrowed and dermas set in a tense frown. Yellow fingertips danced over the surface of the pad, hands deceptively elegant and delicate looking. What could possibly frustrate his twin so much about his art? 

“Frag! Not them either…” Again the mutter rose and he watched as the delete button was hit, clearing whatever work his twin had been doing. 

“Sunny?” 

“Don’t call me that!” There was no heat behind the snap though, concentration unbroken and focused on the pad. 

“Sunstreaker then, for the sake of letting Ratchet recharge, what are you doing?” He was flipped off but waited patiently until the dance slowed down and his twin’s shoulders slumped a little. 

“I am trying to figure out my favorite couple!” His favorite… what? Sideswipe got up and leaned over his twin to see a rough sketch of Wheeljack and Blurr on the screen. 

“Why?” 

“For Christmas… you know that thing you love so much because Prowl lets you make high grade for the party?” Sunstreaker’s tone said ‘DUH’ in a way that had the red twin flicker his optics again. 

“I am still not following?” Patience, Sunstreaker was already frustrated as all pit.

“I have decided to make a series of pictures for the rec room. The Ark’s favorite couples… or trios. But I can’t decide who the first one to be depicted should be! I mean… who is the favorite couple?” Sideswipe couldn’t help the smile that curled his dermas, the giddy feeling bubbling in him. How long ago had it been since his brother had made art to display? 

“That is easy, Sunny!” The glare he received faded slowly as he explained.

oOo 

“Wow!” Exclamations like that came from just about everyone when they entered the rec room, it had been like that all morning. Sideswipe felt pretty good and his twin just about glowed. Not that they were telling anyone but Ratchet about this! 

On the vast, empty, previously orange back wall of the rec room, right center in the now black space, hung a big picture. It wasn’t fancy at all… didn’t even have colors. 

It was just sketches. 

Mechs depicted in nice normal, serene scenes. 

One showed Inferno as he held his mate cuddled against his chest, Red Alert almost limp with a tiny smile on his dermas. Another showed Jazz and Prowl cuddled up to Optimus Prime, the last two with a datapad each and the first with his laser harp. 

Blurr laughing as he tugged Wheeljack’s mask off. 

Perceptor coyly holding out a polishing cloth to Blaster…

At the top curved a scrawled line. 

The Ark’s favorites…


	3. Once every thousand years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3\. Magic

“It doesn’t exist!” Cliffjumper grumbled and crossed his arms over his chest plates, glaring at the tracker in front of him. Hound was too easily dubbed, that was that! He even associated with that glitch ridden traitor of a noble that Prime insisted was one of them. 

Pff, as if! Nobles had all been users, glitched and evil. Most had ironically become Decepticons, if they hadn’t been slaughtered by Decepticons. But that was not what this discussion was about.

“It does, Cliffjumper! It is just one of those things that can’t be explained with hard numbers… like hope and being happy.” The mild voice granted on his nerves and he growled halfsparkedly.

“There is no such thing as magic!” 

“You can believe that if you want, I am going to go to my watch point now.” Overbearing, condescending little… Cliffjumper only articulated another growl, further ticked off by the reminder of his duty. 

Having to sit here in this cave mouth for three miserable Earth orn. 

Looking at nothing. 

Doing nothing. 

All because the Decepticons might, might!, come this way.

oOo

It was as boring and processor numbing as he had thought it would be. By the first human joor, he refused to use their names for them, he was ready to shoot something. His temper didn’t cool off much knowing that Hound was probably having a field orn with all the organic things surrounding them. The same went for Beachcomber, Seasprey and the rest. 

With the notable exception of Gears. 

That thought made him snigger quietly. Ratchet would have his audio receptors burned out when they returned to the Ark. Well, that wasn’t his problem. His problem was getting through three human orn sitting on his skid plate in the middle of nowhere. Good thing that human orn were short things indeed. Not even close to a Cybertronian one.

Huffing quietly though his vents, he began looking around the clearing outside of the cavern he was sitting in. It was just a shallow hollow in a small cliff ridge that sort of folded up from the earth. 

Directly in front of him was the little circular pond that Hound had been so vocal about, something about it being naturally completely circular… whatever. The area around the pond was covered in soft green stuff, some flat and some sticking up from the dirt. Hound had called it different names, but Cliffjumper hadn’t memorized the words since he didn’t particularly care. 

Trees, he knew what they were, and they were also planted in an almost circular arch around the pond, only broken by the stone of his little hidey-hole. What he would not give for some sensible crystals! Their soft glow was so calming to the optics and the even softer melodic chirming could put even the perkiest mech right to recharge…

Not that he needed it, he’d had a good long cycle before going here on this stupid mission, wouldn’t need any for at least five or six earth orn, maybe more if he made sure to refuel on a regular schedule. 

The sun crept slowly over the sky while Cliffjumper entertained himself as well as he could. Dark fell and the stars came out, a nearly full moon crept high and then went down, the sun came again. 

It was boring as hell. 

The sun went down again without him seeing more than a curious quadruped with what looked like trees growing out of its head. He assumed it was the head, because there were eyes in it and it used that end to drink. 

Cliffjumper actually giggled to himself at that thought. Ohh yeah, this was damn boring. 

Dark fell again, and the moon rose in all its full glory. It was actually a pretty moon, as randomly spotted as Cybertron’s twin moons had been orderly but that was okay, at least this place had a satellite, not like some other places. 

The higher the moon rose the foggier the ground became. The fog came creeping out around the trees, softly strangling what little sounds there had been. It was beautiful, really, under the bluish light of the moon. 

Slowly the red minibot became aware of a sort of tension. First it was just the silence but then he noticed that a lot of earth creatures had come, they stood around the pond, mostly hidden in the trees. There were flying things, quadrupeds, insects and other things he didn’t know what was… 

There were even a sort of strange type of human, almost see-through to look at. And… some really short humans, and something that mostly looked human. 

The moon reached it zenith and his attention reverted to the pond where the fog fluffed up all of a sudden, as if something was trying to get out of it. The watching creatures made hushed noises, fearful noises… a quick glance showed that they were afraid, anxious… 

He was many things, but deep inside his spark Cliffjumper could not help reacting to such a thing, and he got up and hurried to the pond. He heard fearful noises, cries, and even anger, but he ignored it, sticking his hands into what should have been a shallow body of water. 

It wasn’t… 

It sucked at him, pulled, tore, and he thought he might be swallowed, but then he touched whatever it was fighting to come out and he took a hold as carefully as he could and pulled with all his might. 

For a long moment he was losing, and then the pond gave up its hold and he stumbled back with something cradled in his arms. He set it down quickly and stepped back from it. 

So tiny, so frail looking. It looked up at him and he met softly glowing blue organic optics, so like his own and so unlike too. 

The creature was elegant, beautiful. The spiral horn on its head… the soft moon light glow of its chassis… he couldn’t describe it adequately. 

~Thank you.~ He startled, dermas parting in shock. 

~You have saved me. You have saved nature for another thousand years.~ 

“I don’t…” He paused uncertainly.

~Don’t worry, not-of-this-world, you will not remember, but I will leave you a present.~ Cliffjumper flickered his optics once…

And onlined them to bright sun light. What? He flickered them again, a strange feeling of lost time sneaking up on him.

“Hey, Cliff’? Ready to go home?” Hound called from the stone ridge above him and he shook the disturbing feeling off. Getting up he climbed up to join the other Autobot, being strangely careful where he put his peds and his hands.

“He… where did you get that?” Hound looked surprised, optics locked on his chest plates. 

“Get what?” Looking down he lifted an optical ridge at the inlay around his Autobot sigil. It was a thin circle and the inlay material was pearly white, almost glowing, and seemed to be somehow twisted. 

“Er…” He looked at Hound, then looked down to the pond… Lost time. He had lost something… time and… 

“Magic.” Gruffly he pushed past the larger mech and hurried on. He did not know what had happened, but he did not care. It had been something good!

Something wonderful. 

His hand covered the new etching and his dermas stretched in a soft longing smile. Something very wonderful. 

oOo 

~Goodbye, not-of-this-world. ~ The Unicorn tossed his head, his body now fully grown as the sun had hit zenith. His birth had been difficult… but help had come. He would remember this one for a thousand years… 

And so would Earth.


	4. How we fell...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4\. Four Noble Truths

At first there was the path… 

Eightfold it was, good it was. We followed it without question for we saw that it allowed us all to live in peace and harmony. 

The path was simply called… ‘right’. 

To do the right thing, to see with the right view, to have the right intention, to talk the right words, to do the right actions, to choose the right livelihood, to give the right effort, to show the right mindfulness and the right concentration. 

To do all for others and have it given back tenfold, thus find peace and happiness in yourself. 

We were indeed blessed back then, more than we knew. 

oOo

Our guiding presence faded away as we grew numerous, him that we now call Primus fell into a slumber so deep we could not reach him. Not even the one that was greatest among us, who carried the very essence of what wisdom we had gathered and what wisdom we would gather in the future. 

Us old ones, we held to the old path. The right. But the young ones were different… 

It came so slowly that we had no defense. They had never talked to the first of us, they spoke of him with awe but their words were those of worshippers, not those of sparklings. He was their origin, but he was not their Carrier. 

They began to cling. They began to look for things to hold, to touch, to own. 

And us old ones? We slumbered as deep as Primus, even if our chassis still moved.

oOo

To own things, to have rank, riches, pleasure. To desire, to crave… 

Slowly we all caved to those insidious feelings. Most of us fell without even seeing it, and the few of us who saw, who woke…

We woke too late. 

Instead of the eightfold path that was right we were walking the path of craving. The path of ‘I’…

Life was about what ‘I’ want, what ‘my’ family wanted… needed… craved. Care became scares, love became rampant desire. It might have gone faster if not for the holy act of bonding. 

But even bonding became scares…

oOo

We are sparked, we live, we corrode and we offline. 

That is how life it now. There is little care and few who even think to care, for they are only thinking of their own cravings, fulfilling them. 

But cravings can never be fulfilled and Cybertron is spiraling into ruin for all its seeming beauty.

I watch it happen and despair.

Life is suffering


	5. Meditating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5\. Five elements: water, fire, earth, wood, and metal

Prowl found it fascinating! Faulty in and of the fact that it only applied to organic worlds but fascinating nonetheless. It was fundamental truths as applied to a simpler world.

The philosophy of interconnection was, however, sophisticated. Simplified here but very much true…

Wood feeds Fire;

The birth of energy and heat. 

Fire creates Earth (ash);

Ash was often filled with nourishment that new plants could take advantage of to grow.

Earth bears Metal;

Even on Cybertron you had to drill and dig to get the rarer metals and crystals out of the ground… and energon, their very life blood was found in the deep mines. 

Metal carries Water (as in a bucket or tap, or water condenses on metal);

Wood could conceivably do the same but Prowl could see the idea behind it. 

Water nourishes Wood

For organics here water was life. Clean water was the most important thing to them. 

That was the cycle of generating… after that came the evolved cycle of overcoming. One Prowl in a way found even more interesting because it looked at both destruction, protection and transmutation. He wasn’t sure if that had been the idea or if simply the logic of the time had shaped it that way,

Wood parts Earth (such as roots; or, Trees can prevent soil erosion);

The destruction tree roots could cause was not to be neglected, Prowl had seen them part rock here in this very city. And yet those same roots could hold earth were it was most needed. 

Earth absorbs (or muddies) Water (or an Earth dam can control water); 

Pollution and control. He had seen how humans had changed the very flow of great rivers with a simple thing like a wall of hard pressed dirt. 

Water quenches Fire;

He had seen how humans saved other humans from the ravages of fire with water. Optimus Prime had done so too, his alt mode that of one of the tools humans used for such things. 

Fire melts Metal;

This was something he found doubly fascinating. Something almost Cybertronian in nature. Humans did it differently and yet… 

Metal chops Wood.

Full circle again, the logical flow fascinating in and of itself. 

Prowl huffed gently and unfolded himself from his meditation pose. 

Humans called that the ‘lotus’ position.


	6. Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 6\. Hex

It was such a pure shape… but not perfect. Hook pressed his dermas together and rapped a knuckle joint on the surface of the data pad. He hated limitations! 

This planet was unstable, its inner core liquid and volatile, even prone to erupting though the thin top layer of semi stable land mass. It pressed upon it, it shifted the layer around. 

Volcanoes, earthquakes… and he had to contend with that? It was an offense, an outrage! He was the greatest artist in the history of Cybertron! 

He had created Crysta… 

Hook felt his spark spasm in a well known and hated manner. That _place_ had no meaning to him! There had been no one there he cared for there!

_lies, lies, lies sang his spark_

He looked at the blueprints once again, snarling and throwing the data pad against the wall before stomping out of the poor excuse of a workshop he had now. He would have to start all over now! It wasn’t good enough, it was not perfect, it would not last!

How could anyone expect him to manage anything here!

_lies, all lies!_

But he would never admit that, now would he? Not he, not his brothers… not one of them would, or could, admit what had been done to them. And why should they? They were happy here, they could do pretty much what they wanted, for they were the closest Megatron had to medics, the closest he had to scientists… 

Starscream was no contestant, too volatile to be of any real use to the Decepticon leader. Second in command? Ha! 

Another data pad was taken out and a new drawing begun. New blueprints, new calculations. And slowly it took form there on the screen, perfection… beauty, creation. 

Then reality crashed as the final form came into being. 

A hexagon…  
A fragging hexagon again! 

The data pad smashed into the wall as Hook howled with incoherent rage, feeling his gestalt mates startle though the bond they shared. He did not care. This orn that shape was haunting him… so perfect, so perfect…

No! Not perfect… never perfect!

_lies, all lies… his spark whispered again_

NO! Not lies… never lies.

He was not rebuilding the city… no, no, no!

He did not miss that place! Did not miss that mech… 

He flopped onto the berth in his room, ignoring his gestalt, ignoring the world and his deadline. Recharge… just a bit of it, and then he would finish the project.

Optics dimming and conscious thought shutting down; one image grew sharp in his processor.

_Oh, Omega, I miss you..._


	7. Wonders lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 7\. Seven Wonders

There had been such wonders on Cybertron. Beauty that was greater than anything that he had seen on any other world. 

One of the few to be so lucky as to see them all. The younglings thought him old and grumpy, even if most of them ended up respecting him and what he knew. He did nothing much to change their opinion on him, though, told silly stories and grumped whenever he had a chance. 

Inside he was different, but he only shared that with the other old ones. Ratchet used much the same defense… Ironhide had the Prime take care of and so did not need to defend as all respected him too much to bother him. 

oOo

_Praxus' wonderful garden had been the first to fall, the bombs raining down on it, destroying the work of eons. Crystals older than the oldest mech alive, shattered and blackened. There had been nothing left to salvage._

_Hall of Heroes, not only destroyed but defiled by the mechs that had once walked it with awe! All Cybertronians came from the same origin, after all. I remember when it fell into the hands of the Decepticons… I remember the images of the destroyed status of the Primes. I remember getting completely high off my aft that dark cycle, sorrow making it so easy to fall to the temptation of forgetting for a little while._

_Crystal City, destroyed by its very creators… it was such a sad thing. It nearly crushed some of us, it did crush a few. They just stopped caring. One in particular, poor Omega… there is not much left of who he once was._

_Then the hanging gardens of Vos had fallen as the city of the fliers had been leveled to the ground in an ill advised attack. The nobles had done nothing but worsen the war._

_The Mass Transit System… a wonder of technology lost in the flicker of an optic. They hit it to cripple us, but they crippled all of Cybertron. I have a hard time even to this orn believing that the strike was condoned by Megatron or any of the other high up Decepticon leaders. They do have working processors, however much I wished they were wired differently._

_Well of Allsparks… containing the seal of Primus. A legendary place that even I know very little about. The story of its destruction is vague, and I think there is more to it than anyone is willing to tell about. Autobots and Decepticons alike avoid the place… why? Maybe I will know one orn._

_Rust Sea… the natural, deadly beauty of this place is gone. It is even more deadly now than it was, poisoned by the war. It was so beautiful once… red and clean. Now it is a vat of churning poison, glowing green and yellow in the eternal night of Cybertron._

_All the wonders of Cybertron are lost now… destroyed in this senseless war. Destroyed, defiled, warped and lost._

_Do we even have a legacy left?_

_By_ Kup _, for those that survive me._


	8. Caretakers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 8\. Arachnids

They were always there… scuttling about, doing nothing. Or seemingly nothing...fact was that when an area had no Cyberscorpions, it worked perfectly, when it began declining they appeared, multiplying and then disappearing again when it was back at peak efficiency. 

Cybertron was a machine, a great mechanism that housed a race of sentient and sapient machines as well as a number of machine creatures that varied wildly in sentience and intelligence. 

oOo

Cybertron 

We don’t understand it, how could we? 

It is our creator, our carrier… the place we live and the place that nurtures us. But it keeps its secrets close, and we have barely scratched the surface.

Cyberscorpions are the perfect example. 

They are considered pests by most, their quick rate of multiplying cited as the main reason for this. It is odd, though, for the Cyberscorpions do not eat anything as far as we can discern. They do not chew on things, they do not leave any messes… rather the opposite. 

Traps are set for them, and there is some trade done with their remains, the metal of their chassis. Even the energon that is their life fluid, however they get it. Some mechs and femmes seem to think that the little beings hold some sort of inexplicable power. Nonsense, of course...studies have shown that they are no different than any other creature of Cybertron, except for the fact that they seem to have no obvious function. 

I would devote more time to the study of them, if not for the fact that there are other projects that need my attention more. 

Personal research log:

Perceptor, leading scientist of Iacon Science Academy. 

oOo

_Pain_

They felt it and scuttled along quickly, quietly, in response. Repairs had begun before the mechs living on this part of Cybertron even realized they were there. They had learned to start with the deep damage before venturing up where they could be caught and offlined. 

Once they hadn’t had to dodge anything, all beings knew to leave them be to do the work they had been given. But their master slept now, and those that were like the master but small had forgotten the decree. They had learned to work around it, their ability to reproduce rapidly if need be a true blessing now. 

_Pain… Pain… Pain_

But even they were brought up short in the end. Those that were like the master but small were doing things that made no sense. They tore open their own master, blasted holes in him, burned him, smelted him… 

They could not hope to repair all of the damage in time… 

And yet, they tried. That was why they were there, after all.


	9. Nine Lives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 9\. Nine Lives
> 
> Co-authored by Darkesong from DeviantArt

They had guarded the Overlords though an untold number of vorn. It was their true function, what they'd been Created for. There had been trials, perils to overcome...there had been others like them that fought, were guardians as they were. As time went by they slowly lost their charges, their friends, and in the end only they were left behind… 

Only Nightstalker, himself and the very last of the old ones, the last Overlord. He had been happy, despite the conflict... his mate, and his duty, had been his life. 

But…

The words of a young mech serving the old Overlord were heard, and stayed with him, insidiously planting the seed of revolution. The catalyst that changed everything when the time came. 

He survived. That first life had ended when his bondmate chose the Overlord over him. He did not resent his mate for that choice, for Nightstalker had not been able to see another path, though it had been right there before their optics. That, at least, had been what he had thought at the time. He would come to regret his partner's loss more than he could fully recognize then, in the anger of the moment.

_Ravage was the first to admit that he had been overly bold in his thinking at the time, harsh in his judgments. But age brought wisdom, did it not?_

Where his first life ended, his second began as he joined with Megatron and accepted the mech called Soundwave as his new immediate master. He would have preferred Megatron himself, but bowed to the inevitable. Soundwave was not a bad master to have, though he was not easy to understand...his method of communication stilted save over the fledgling symbiotic bond that burned like acid to a mech so recently deprived of a true bondmate. 

_Understanding had never really developed as he'd hoped. In a way, he envied the others that worked with Soundwave even now. They had assimilated better that he had… somehow communed with the deck unit on a level that Ravage knew implicitly that he never would ._

But even without that deeper melding of consciousness, Soundwave had managed to fill some of the aching void left within his spark. He never fully mitigated the loss of his mate, could never be what Nightstalker had been, but he was there, and he cared for Ravage despite his aloofness in what should have been a much closer relationship. 

Then they had boarded the Nemesis and that had been the end of his second life. 

On the organic planet Earth, his third life began… 

Aside from the exotic location, it was much like his second life. War, killing. Death. 

Loneliness.

He threw himself into it, fighting fiercely, allowing no pity, no mercy to mar the perfect hunter he'd sought to become. Distracting himself from the truth. 

It had ended abruptly when an Autobot by the name of Skids managed to lure him into a trap. He'd been unwary, and proud. As he fell into deep stasis, completely lost to himself in a grey purgatory for which he had no name, he thought perhaps this was the fate he deserved. What he'd earned for the actions that had brought about the end of their world. He would have remained there if not for the unbelievable event that brought him into being for the fourth time. 

He'd awoken alone, confused as the Earth itself appeared to convulse around him, phantom birthing pains giving truth to his regained consciousness. Only to find the mech he'd bargained his spark on had fallen, the great Megatron had been reborn as well, taking a new visage, a new name.

What could he do save support the mech that appeared to be the savior he had sacrificed so much for? 

But that, too, was a dream. Galvatron was an illusion, not meant to be in their continuum yet, if at all, and he was mad. Truly insane on a level that chilled him to his very core. The time traveler called Scourge helped him avert the disaster that had instigated his reincarnation. 

_Comprehension, on the mistake he'd made, came far too late. Ravage understood later that the very conflict between Megatron and his clone had been an illustration of the conflict within the mech himself. Endlessly reinvented, a survivor that would never truly find what he sought. The conquest itself was the prize, and when there were none left to triumph over, what did existence hold for such a spark?_

His fourth life ended with the true death of Megatron. The Tyrant himself consumed by the bond he'd forced into consummation. Once again he endured the loss of the mech he'd bargained everything on, put his faith into. He was not one that gave himself partially when he shifted loyalties, even when the dedication of such loyalty proved to be poorly considered. Even when he had begun to long for a time when things had been so much more simple.

The fifth life began with his return to Earth and his service to Shockwave. Again he immersed himself into his purpose, the conflict that had encompassed his existence re-manifested once again. This time, against those that had been nominally his own. Scorponok, and those Decepticons that followed him. 

It blurred into an endless series of encounters, battles that distinguished themselves only by the lack of impact they had in the true nature of the engagement. And that life ended when they were returned to Cybertron, to battle the greatest of all evils. 

Unicron, the destroyer of worlds.

His sixth life made little sense to him, he existed almost in a feral state, so exhausted was he by the seemingly endless nature of his reinvention. Why battle to live when you yearned only for death? For the one he had left behind, the choice he had made so long ago, and now regretted with all his spark? He was so very tired of the emptiness that had never truly receded, weary of the constant warfare… 

It ended when the battles finally concluded, and the Autobots won. 

Ended in peace, and he was, unbelievably, still functioning.

He was unable to even grasp the concept, unable to accept a reality in which he wasn't expected to fight, even when he no longer even knew what he was fighting for. 

His seventh life was one on the run. 

He escaped, running, always running. Even from himself. Especially from himself.

It ended, finally, when he was captured...recognized. Granted amnesty and a new form. A new start, though he could never truly forget. Every moment of every life lingered, perfectly preserved in his archives. 

And thus started the life he lived now, his eighth life… that of a bounty hunter for the Tripredacus Council. An undercover agent… he executed any mission, however brutal or covert. Anything they needed. Even if they were not all aware of his necessity, he felt the obligation of his renewal. Accepted the approval of his skills, his experience...the rewards they offered with little reaction save his inherent courtesy.

For all the accolades he was gifted with, the recognition, however academic, all he yearned for was the last life. 

True oblivion, where he would meet the Well as other mechs did, and finally be reunited with his mate. Nightstalker. His bonded, so long lost to him. So long an absence in a spark that could accept no other. How could he even continue to function beneath the weight of this crushing regret? And yet, somehow, he did.

Was it not time for him to join the AllSpark soon? What must he do to earn the reunion he craved with everything that he was?

_And so, Ravage waited. After so long, was another life really too much to ask, to dedicate himself to, restitution for a betrayal committed so long ago it felt like the legends he'd once heard as a sparkling? Despite his pain, he didn't think so. There was nothing he wouldn't give, wouldn't do, to amend the mistake he'd made so long ago._

_Nine lives were a small price to pay, for redemption._


	10. Fragments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 10\. One-tenth

_It was his treasure._

Scavenger held on to it with a possessiveness that surprised even himself in the rare moments that he thought of it. 

_It was just one piece. Who knew where the others were?_

He’d have kept the rest of it if he knew where the rest was! And no one would have taken it from him. Hook had tried but he refused to let it go. It was his, his treasure, his memory… Hook could go find his own. 

_It glittered in the light._

Brought memories of a time long past where he wasn’t seen as a simpleton, memories that almost, almost… but then he always got a processor ache and had to go recharge and it was all gone again. He did that rarely Scrapper got so angry if he had to take an unscheduled recharge cycle. Scrapper got angry with all of them when they remembered… all but Hook, but Hook got angry enough with himself. 

_It had been a part of the most perfect, beautiful, glittering artwork they ever made in a city that was art in and of itself._

They all had their moments of remembering even Scrapper, he had ways to punish all of them and yet… and yet he never even threatened to take Scavenger’s treasure away. It was as if he understood… Maybe he did, who knew what he had, something for sure maybe not a treasure like his, maybe not a shape like Hook. But something… for he too could lock himself up for joors at a time frustration and pain filling their gestalt bond. 

_It was one thing he hadn’t lost completely, this one treasure, this fragment of the past._

He clung to it… because there were those moments before the processor ache took over where he could almost, almost remember who he had once been. Before he became this Scavenger the simpleton, Scavenger the collector of junk… Scavenger the useless. When he had been an artist, when he had made this… made… 

_It was a perfect slice… one of ten._

He curled up, hands to his helmet and tried to will the processor ache away, but he couldn’t win… He never won, they never won… 

He would never see the Star of Primus whole again.


	11. Fly me to the moon...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 11\. Landing on the/a moon

The dust barely stirred under his pedes when he touched down, he had cut his thrusters early, allowing the weak gravity do its work for him. No need to clutter the thin atmosphere up with particles, his air filters didn’t need any help getting dirty, or rather, it would get help soon if he had the right coordinates… 

-You here?- The transmission was brief, to the point. They never had a lot of time. No answer came, but something else did, and he happily caught the small form hurtling at him, not caring that he lost his tenuous connection to the surface and slowly drifted back down again to land on his back. 

Who would care when their arms were full of the one thing that made existence worthwhile?

-Late.- 

-We’re a gestalt.- His armful of reason squirmed until small dermas could peck at his own. 

-Still, got me worried.- He huffed and dust puffed up around his vents, dancing elegantly on the rare drafts he made in the eternally still ‘air’. 

-You always worry, I always worry.- They did, it wasn’t easy being like this… It had been so much easier when they had simply been two lonely sparks listening to each other’s rants on random human radio frequencies. 

But, Primus be his witness, he did not want those times back. 

-It’s only natural, we are at war.- He ran his hands down the small rounded frame, so different from his own big powerful one.

-I, at least, can defend myself...you are not even a warrior! If something happened to,-“ His almost-lover shut him up with a pinch to sensitive wires and he moaned aloud, though barely any noise was heard. 

-Just hold me… I have survived this long, so have you. What happens in the coming orn, vorn… It will happen as Primus wills it.- Another huff, more dancing dust and he wrapped his arms around the minibot. If he thought it a solution, he would ask him to come with him, take another faction mark. But minibots didn’t last long with the Decepticons…

-Next time I won’t let you go without a ‘facing…- He could feel a tremor in the little mech’s plating. Laughter? Yes…

-I will hold you to that, my love.- The minibot snuggled in tighter and he responded by tightening his embrace. 

-Just hold me tight for now, we only have about a breem more of radio silence.- So little time… 

He held on as long as he could, almost too long. Even as he blasted off he got pinged, questions about the Autobot signature so near. Could he destroy him? Could he capture him? 

He laughed into the coldness of space but answered seriously enough that he had not seen an Autobot, he must be hiding somewhere on the moon's surface below, that no, he could not shoot him, and no, he had to get back to fuel, there wasn’t enough in his tank for him to chase a spark shadow. 

Little did they know that the minibot was the one who had captured him. 

One lonely spark called to another. 

Little did they know that landing on the moon was his last little act of rebellion…


	12. Older than the stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 12\. Twelve Stars

I saw the Universe being born… 

I saw all the Universes as they were born. 

I am so old, that even my children seem young. I did not take physical form for many eons, too curious, too much at the mercy of the mercurial moods that took me from one end of this cosmos to the other. 

I cannot travel to the other universes like my brother and nemesis, but I know that I am in them as well. Such was the promise made to me by my only elder. You could call him my Creator, but I am not sure he truly made either of us, he was just there when we were first granted awareness. 

Primacron. 

We both took our names from his…I was first, so I became Primus, and my brother became Unicron. 

I have stopped telling this story to my chosen, they do not understand, nor do they need to. 

They are young, they have long eons before them if they can overcome the perils that lurk in their own natures. This war is but one of them. 

I took planetary form because I was lonely. I Created the first born, the thirteen, on a whim. But I came to love them, and it wounded me deeply when one of them chose Unicron over me. Such is the nature of free will, and I did grant them that. 

I have never regretted it. 

I left that first star behind, and started anew with another. I granted the remaining twelve the ability to spark on their own, and I gave them brother and sisters from my own spark. 

Six Primes and six High Lord Protectors, sharing my chassis between them. 

Eventually, they grew old as all mortal things must, and one by one they united with me again. 

So, I created the Matrix. It would go to my chosen ruler, the Prime, and his mate would be the Lord High Protector. 

Eventually, they forgot that I was their Creator, and called me Cybertron. They still prayed to me, they still called my name, but they did not know that they walked upon me, their pedes striding upon my body every breem of every orn. 

I did not resent this, for the deeper I slumbered the less likely it was that my brother would find my Creations and I. 

Whenever a sun began to die, I awoke just enough to move us to another. 

Such it was for a very long time. 

But now, we are here, all of us… and the twelfth star I have circled is long dead. I sleep so deeply, now, that the waking world is only a dream for me. I cannot stir myself, cannot rouse enough to move us all once more. My chassis has been ravished by three great wars, I am depleted, and all I have the strength left to do is to chose a new Prime… 

He is so terribly young, but in him is a strength I have rarely seen. So I speak to him, through the Matrix, and pray that he might understand me.

oOo

_“This world is older than you can imagine. It has sailed the starscape...tending budding galaxies...forever a buffer to the approaching darkness. And now its fate...is in your hands.”_

Optimus shook, terrified and honored all at once. The voice of Primus… placing Cybertron in his hands. He did not know how he would shoulder the burden, but he would! 

Somehow, he would.


	13. Paying it back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 13\. Bad Luck

“I… but!” Oh, it was sweet music to his audio receptors! Still he made sure not to laugh, or even seem amused. His gestalt mate would never know it was him who’d done this, or facilitated that it could be done. 

“How!” The word was thrown at him and he shrugged, rotors fanning lazily behind him as he assimilated the pings of pain coming though the gestalt bond. Serve him right, oh he had waited a long time to get back at this brother properly. 

With this one it had to strike doubly hard, had to hit more than one desire. He’d carefully selected the items that had been… liberated. Made sure to mark those that should garner no interest as well as the one that would hit his brother right in that damnable greed. 

He wasn’t a torturer for nothing, physical or mental didn’t much make a difference to him. His gestalt had been off-limits though, until that little incident… that small betrayal. He’d at least thought that his brothers were trust worthy, since they needed each other to stay alive. 

But no… 

Red optics narrowed and dermas twisted in a cruel smile under his mask as another wail of loss rose. Eventually all these things could be replaced, but that wasn’t what mattered, this would leave scars. 

Scars that he would make sure would never heal. Just like his wound from the betrayal never had… he’d make sure they festered and rusted. He’d make sure that the pain would leave his brother to cling to him, to them all. 

Make sure he never betrayed them again! 

Killing him would have been easier, but that was impossible. So now he would make him live with his pain, and use his brother. It wasn’t how it was supposed to be, but it could never again be what it had been supposed to be… 

“I don’t understand! It’s… it's random, it makes no sense.” Mm, that note of terror, he loved hearing it from his victims, and it was all the sweeter lilting his brother’s vocals. Stretching, he flipped his rotors back and shifted to walk into the storage room. 

“Just bad luck, Swindle. It happens to the best of us… doesn’t it?” Slinging his arm around the smaller mech’s shoulders, he guided him out of the room, towards their quarters. He’d distract him a bit now…

“Come on, I think I have a bit of grade we can share.”


	14. The Game Virus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 14\. A Fortnight

“A fortnight?” Prowl paused midstep and lifted his head to look down the hall before him instead of at the data pad he was holding. That was a word he’d never thought to hear in Sideswipe’s vocalizer! He nearly fritzed his optics when he saw that the mech was walking slowly along side Beachcomber, black helmet bent and clearly speaking to him.

Sideswipe, speaking to a minibot. 

“That’s what the quest said. I’m not too sure how literally to take it, dude. Time just doesn’t follow the same logic in there.” Beachcomber’s usual slow drawl didn’t make any more sense to the second in command. What could they possibly be doing that had time that didn’t follow ‘the same’ logic. And what quest? 

“We could just take the port to the Caverns of Time since we’re already in Dalaran,” the red frontliner shrugged and shook his head. “They’ve made so many changes lately! I mean…” he paused again, tilting his helmet thoughtfully. 

“Dude! What did Blue’ say about his rogue?” Bluestreak was in on this? He’d not said anything about any quest that would take a fortnight… or anything about doing anything with Sideswipe and Beachcomber. What was going on here? 

Prowl could feel how his logic circuits were beginning to complain as he attempted to figure out what they were talking about. He knew for certain that there were no missions planned that all three mentioned mechs were participating in, in fact there were no missions planned for fourteen days in the future! 

“Dunno… you know we need some more players! Six really isn’t enough unless we wanna keep pugging, I’m sure we could infect someone else with this. Come on, let’s go talk to Blue’ and then see if we can’t get Trailbreaker to try it. We could use some ranged…Blue’ said he was interested and maybe he can get Hound on it. That would at least make two more for the raid.” Infect? Prowl forcibly cut his calculations off and turned around to rush for Jazz’s office. The second in command looked rather surprised when he ‘barged’ in suddenly.

“Jazz, Sideswipe is up to some practical joke along with Bluestreak and Beachcomber! It’s something to do with a computer virus, and it will happen in two weeks time.” Jazz blinked his optics at him and then burst out laughing. 

“Prowler, seriously… Sideswipe and Beachcomber? The only thing they have in common is that online game thing they asked for allowance to enter into.” What online game? Prowl sat down and slowly related what he had heard to the other mech, to Jazz’s evident amusement. 

“Prowler, I think you should just forget you heard that. Or you could try the game?” Prowl shook his head and told Jazz not to call him ‘Prowler’ once again. This was something he did not understand… but maybe he should look into it. 

If it could make Sideswipe talk to a minibot… 

Who knew.


	15. When Change Comes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 15\. Legal Age

“This is my last upgrade?” the mech was small and looked uncertainly upon his reflection in the mirror. 

“You have reached legal age and as the law states you have been though the last upgrade you should need. Are you unhappy with something?” Ratchet looked at the chief medic and wished he could just take over the consultation. But he was only a junior medic, his patient or not. 

“No, not unhappy… I just thought I would end up bigger, I guess.” Boron laughed haughtily and Ratchet cringed a little, unable to keep the reaction in. 

“Not everyone has the protoform of a guardian class mech, and both your CNR donors are minibots like you are. No one can be anything their CNR is not,” a lie. Ratchet knew it was a lie but he, like all medics, was forbidden to speak of truth. The protoform conformed to any chassis given it, regardless of CNR donors. All that was needed was energon or access to protoform metal from the great Sonic Canyons. 

“Oh…” the minibot nodded as if he understood, it was unlikely though. The mech was to be another nameless worker in the grand new machine of nameless workers that would make Cybertron’s great economy run smoothly. 

Ratchet felt like gagging. 

He wanted to help mechs and femmes. That was all he had ever wanted! But he couldn’t see how this was helping… all he could see was the creation of a new sub race. Mechs and femmes that wouldn’t have names, were there only to do what others would not do. 

There was that meeting this dark cycle. It was time to go and see if there really was someone willing to try and stop all of this. 

“Now… number sixty seven gamma, please come with me. We have your new papers out here as well as an apartment assignment and a work assignment. I am sure you will be just fine!” So many already, Ratchet was almost too lost in his own thoughts to see the lost look the minibot threw at him. 

“But isn’t medic Ratchet supposed to-” 

“Now, now, Junior Medic Ratchet only treats sparklings, you have now reached legal age and have had your last upgrade. You are no longer his responsibility.” Another lost look and all he could do was smile and nod encouragingly. 

The poor minibot… no better than a slave.


	16. A name given...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 16\. Join the Army

“And why do you want to join the Elite Guard, Autobot Worker Axe Handler three one one nine seven?” The secretary mech didn’t seem the least bit interested but Axe Handler three one one nine seven hadn’t expected anyone to give him the time of the light cycle. All he cared about was that he’d not been thrown out on his skid plate the moment he came in the door of the recruitment office. 

“Um… I-I wish to make a difference for Cybertron? The recruitment posters all say that to do that you have to be an Elite Guard, so um…” stuttering to a halt he fidgeted nervously. He wasn’t even sure it was a good reason, he just wanted more than to swing his axe every day. Wanted to do more, mean more… 

“Why do you think you have the necessary skills to be accepted into the Elite Guards, Autobot Worker Axe Handler three one one nine seven, you are only an Allspark mech?” it appeared as if his answer had been more or less ignored. Axe Handler three one one nine seven tired not to let that get to him. It was just procedure, he was sure of it! And he was used to procedures. 

“I am determined, I am good at learning… I-I am really good at handling my axe and my grapplers?” the small secretary looked up so fast at that that Axe Handler three one one nine seven thought he had heard his spinal array complain. 

“Grapplers?” 

“Yes, sir, I-I came of the ensparking line with them? Um…” Axe Handler three one one nine seven lifted his arms and showed off the mechanism without firing them off. 

“Interesting... Well, your scores on the intelligence test are high enough to get you in,” he didn’t look like it was interesting as such, but again how was he to know? He had very little to do with mechs that weren’t other Autobot Workers, maybe ignoring your conversation partner and looking at your terminal was perfectly okay for everyone else?

“They are?” 

“Why yes, and I think I will recommend you for the officers program. It is very rare to get someone who has two mods and this high a score in the intelligence test. If you will sign here,” the mech handed Axe Handler three one one nine seven a data pad, pointing to the bottom part of the screen. “It is rare to see two mods and a bright processor on a worker build, you can go far, Autobot Worker Axe Handler three one one nine seven.”

“Oh…” that was good right? He thought it was at least, though the secretary had gone back to ignoring him, only barely glancing at him when he handed him a new datapad and waved him towards a door, opposite the one he came in at, when he had signed the first pad with his number glyph. 

He came into a big room with lines of benches and sat down uncertainly on a free seat. For a moment he just sat there looking fugitively at the others and waiting for something to happen. When nothing did he turned on the data pad to read what was on it. 

_Recruit number one four five two zero zero nine._

_Former Designation:  
Autobot Worker Axe Handler three one one nine seven._

_New Designation:  
Optimus_

New Designation?

Axe Handler three one one nine seven was stunned… he had a name now? Just like that he had gotten a name… 

Optimus… 

He was an Elite Guard officers recruit!

And he was Optimus.


	17. A life in chapters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 17\. Seventeen Chapters

Chapter 1 **Sparking**

_Screeching and bright light, even some pain, and a lot of cold._

_Gentle, warm hands and soothing trills in calm, loving voices._

_Nice warm moistness and soft warm things instead of the coldness._

_Three soothing pulses felt inside, three soothing voices cooing and thrilling, one so tired. Almost as tired as self._

_Coos turning softer and brightness dimming._

Hailstorm and Brightwing didn’t stop cooing over their mate and little one just because they were in recharge. They did not plan on stopping for the next few orns, though they might take pauses to fuel and recharge themselves. But not yet… no, now they would admire their third and the little miracle he had brought into the world.

Chapter 2 **Sparkling**

_Want! Grasping for it with hands that seem to hit everything but the things self wants._

“Oh look at that! Have you ever seen such a clever little sparkling, Brightwing? No, you haven’t, ‘cause Acid’ is the most adorable little sparkling in the world! Yes he is, yes he is!” Brightwing refrained from pointing out that every sparkling was adorable at this age… Besides, Acid Storm was just a little more adorable than most! 

Chapter 3 **Youngling**

“Mine!” _Acid Storm-self was very sure this was right! Acid Storm-self had gasped the strangely shaped thing and that mean it was Acid Storm-self’s…_

~Primus damn you both!~ “Help me get it away from him!” Sunspot tried to catch the little agile youngling, failing miserably, while his mates desperately tried to stifle their laughter and help him. 

There was just something about the triumph on the little faceplates of their youngling as he ran around with the interface toy tightly clutched to his still cockpit-lacking chest plates. 

Chapter 4 **Fledgling**

“I don’t want to!” Acid Storm stomped and wiggled his winglets angrily, unknowingly imitating Hailstorm’s aggressive wing tilting the only way he could. 

“Acid’, try and behave! It is not the end of Cybertron to go to a party with us.” Sunspot attempted to sound firm but had rather a hard time. His little sparkling was getting older… and so much more like his primary code originator. 

It was both hard and wonderful to see… 

Chapter 5 **First Flight**

“Be careful!” Sunspot shouted, almost standing on the tips of his pedes until a warm hand against his wing made him turn his head. Brightwing was smiling at him, shaking his head a little. 

“He’ll be just fine, Sparklight.” Hailstorm’s voice practically purred into his audio receptor as strong arms locked around his lower chest, warm hands splaying over his cockpit. He knew they were right, he knew they loved him and their first sparkling. 

But Acid Storm was his first bornling. Seeing him take wing for the first time, all wobbly and vulnerable was… scary.

_Acid Storm was in heaven, quite literally. Flying was wonderful! The best thing ever… feeling the wind, using his wings. Oh, they had been itching for so long now. He was oblivious to his Carrier’s concerns and pride, oblivious to the proud angling of his Code originators’ wings._

_He certainly did not want to land ever again, though he eventually had to._

Chapter 6 **Last upgrade**

Acidstom turned in front of the big mirror, this way and that. He wiggled his too heavy wings and made a series of silly grimaces with his strange new mouth. 

“It feels odd.” He finally turned to look at all three of his Creators, heavy wings flipping up defensively at the doting, amused looks he was getting. “It does feel odd!”

“It always feels odd, Acid’, but it’s the last time you have to go through it.” The young adult seeker folded his arms over his newly acquired cockpit and tried not to pout, only to squeak with shock when the touch sent tingles and near pain though him.

“Ah! Careful there, cockpit glass and fittings are pretty sensitive for the first few orn.” Brightwing laughed and Sunspot promptly wacked Hailstorm’s helmet, though he too giggled. 

Acidstom flushed hot, knowing all too well that his Carrier’s cockpit had always been oversensitive…

Chapter 7 **Leaving the nest**

“Are you sure you have everything?” 

“I am sure, Carrier. Most of it got fetched by the movers yesterorn,” _Acid Storm immediately felt bad for snapping and stepped up to his Carrier, embracing him gently. It was so odd to be slightly taller than Sunspot now… he took more after Hailstorm, though he had Brightwing’s colors._

“It’s not like I am flying off into the sunset, I’ll be just an aerie over.” 

“I know… I know…” And yet it was with a heavy spark that Sunspot watched his oldest sparkling take off from his home landing pad for the last time. When he returned he would only be there as guest. 

Why did it have to be so hard to see a little one leave the nest?

Chapter 8 **Mate hunting**

It was an urge… Acidstom ignored it for as long as he could, but in the end he gave in. It was just too powerful. Even approaching his boss at work was torture because he had to fight the need to strut and flutter all the way there and all the way out of the aerie after that. 

Everyone of his coworkers were Trined. His boss was **very** trined! 

He lasted just long enough to be well on his way to the display cliffs, and most were aware of his heading by then. It was still sort of humiliating to have to give in to his programming like that. 

Mate hunting… 

Well, he’d had to get the urge eventually. Even if he wasn’t really interested in anyone. 

Chapter 9 **First rejection**

Third time the urge hit, it was all different. 

Acid Storm really felt it this time, as he almost immediately upon his arrival on the display cliffs set optics on the most gorgeous seeker he had ever seen.

He was beautiful! A dully shining orange yellow, pretty, delicate and fluttery and he drew Acid Storm like a moth to a flame.

Unfortunately the attraction was one-sided, and two orns later a sad and somewhat down trodden Acid Storm returned to his regular life, a few painful scars richer. 

Novafire hadn’t liked him very much at all!

Chapter 10 **First acceptance**

Flutter. 

Flare! 

Flutter, flutter, flare! 

Acid Storm shied away from the slightly larger seeker, surprised at the sudden approach. Optics huge he watched the blue mech flutter at him again, sure that he had somehow been mistaken for someone else. 

He’d seen the blue mech before. Thunderfall was very pretty, but usually not aggressive in his approaches at all, and hadn’t seemed interested in Acidstorm before… 

But… 

Trilling nervously he fluttered back, accepting the interest. For the time being, at least.

Chapter 11 **Courting**

They only met on the display cliffs, lacking a third. Lacking a trine leader candidate. 

Acid Storm had always known he wouldn’t be trine dominant, Thunderfall was less eager to admit it and prone to aggressive displays. But he eventually admitted to it. 

That made their courting so much easier, and Acid Storm had to admit that the blue seeker kissed wickedly well!

Chapter 12 **Second courting**

Angry hissing woke Acid Storm, and he could feel that Thunderfall was online as well in the tension of the other’s chassis. He was still rather disoriented though; they had arrived at the display cliffs early the previous light cycle, their mating urges finely in tune now. They had fought to gain a good spot on the canyon's natural steps and had established an area for recharge and one for display. 

No one had shown much interest in them though, and eventually they had given in to exhaustion and curled up together. And now someone was invading their territory? Blearily focusing on the noise, Acid Storm quickly realized his mistake as his optics landed on two very big seekers. 

One was a smoky grey color with charcoal accents and bright gold highlights. The other was bright yellow… The color instantly had his attention, yellow or orange seekers always drew him. It was the same for Thunderfall… 

Suddenly the two big seekers attacked each other, grappling and going after each other’s wings until the yellow one managed to gouge a set of long ugly lines down the smoky grey one’s wings, which made him flee. The yellow mech strutted along the edge of their hard won display territory, hissing at the nearby couples they had fought with and occasionally screeching at those flying by, wings flared and high. 

Both nest occupants were stunned and quite thoroughly cowed. 

Not to mention thoroughly swept off their pedes. That had been one very impressive courting!

Chapter 13 **Bonding**

“S… mmm…” Acid Storm whined low and wiggled in the larger seeker's hold. Sunstorm wasn’t deterred in the least, nor did he react to Thunderfall’s quiet pleading. 

They had met hesitatingly off the display cliffs for a little over three vorn now. Going to the display cliffs when the urge overtook them. It hadn’t even taken two visits for Sunstorm to fully sync with them, and he had been very aggressive, very protective. 

Not one other dominant had gotten within touch of them since the second time the urge had come after Sunstorm claimed them. A surprising amount had tried, likely because of Sunstorm’s aggressive defending. Seekers were drawn to power. 

It was past time. Acid Storm’s family had been poking delicately about it. 

“Sunstorm?” Whining again he arched up and finally the yellow seeker gave in, lowering himself towards them, open chest showing his wildly pulsing spark in all its golden glory. 

Chapter 14 **First sparking**

Crating the little spark had been pure bliss, there was nothing more wonderful than interfacing his trine mates. Acid Storm wouldn’t ever want to be without that… it created an indescribable nearness that even the bond they had forged the first time couldn’t rival. 

But this? This was pure agony, and he wailed and ranted at his trine mates all though it. Threatening to rip off both wings and other… more delicate chassis parts when it was over and done with. It was a miracle that they stayed till it was over, but then again he could feel them worry for him and the little one both. 

And all of a sudden it was over and a thin, audio shattering screech announced the arrival of a new life. 

Chapter 15 **First Sparkling**

Cloudjumper was such a bright little sparkling. And he stayed bright and cheerful all though sparklinghood, younglinghood and even as a fledgling he gave very little trouble, unlike some of his younger nest bothers.

He was a bright young seeker when he left his nest, leaving Acid Storm to seek consolation with his trine as his own Carrier had done when he flew off his nest home’s landing pad so long ago. 

Acid Storm gained a whole new level of understanding in his relationship with his Creator trine that orn…

Chapter 16 **Last flight**

So old… 

Acid Storm stretched out his wings and huffed tiredly. He couldn’t feel the wind the same way anymore. None of them could. They didn’t feel the urge to fly anymore, really… 

They had seen the tenth generation of their line being sparked and knew that that was enough deep in their sparks. They would be missed, and they would maybe miss, but this was their last flight. 

Even Cybertronians grew old.

Seekers might be special in the optics of Primus, but they were still mortal.

They set down outside the strangely low building and greeted the other elderly trines with cheerful enough thrills. 

Retiring was not so bad.

Chapter 17 **Offlining**

~Sun’, Sunstorm?~

~It is okay, Acid’~ But it wasn’t… Thunderfall wasn’t there anymore, he’d slipped away ahead of them. Always so quick to start on the new things. The green seeker smiled unknowingly, and that was his last legacy.

Their grayed out chassis were found only a joor or so later as dawn light shone though their window. 

Their family grieved and flew to Primus' temple to sing for their sparks. 

Their chassis were melted down.

Such was the way of a seeker's life, and his death.


	18. No choice, not even in adulthood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 18\. Age of majority

“Um…” he fidgeted and looked everywhere but at the older mech sitting on the berth. 

“Now, now. I don’t expect you to do anything, young one. Trust me on this, an alliance bonding wasn’t my idea. I have been happily unbonded for vorn!” At least he had a nice voice, it was relaxing if a bit gruff. 

“As I see it, we have a vorn to get to know each other, isn’t that so? You haven’t reached your majority yet and I would be looked upon with very unkindly optics if I bonded you before then… And any alliance bonding has to at least have some friendship on both sides, true?” He nodded, a little jerkily, and fidgeted some more. In all truthfulness it wasn’t the alliance bonding that bothered him, it was the age gap. 

Other than an untouched chassis, what was he bringing into this? He hadn’t even finished a proper education yet! Much less gathered any experience in his chosen fields. He was mostly a pretty chassis and a blank slate…

The older mech before him huffed and gestured to the room they where in, clearly unsure what to say or do. He couldn’t blame him, he hadn’t known what to say either, not now and not when his Code originator announced that he was going to alliance bond the senator. 

“This is your room, I will of course allow you to finish your education and support you if you choose to use it… or take further academic steps. Really, young one, I am not going to bite… not that I can.” There was a dry sort of amusement to his voice and Perceptor finally glanced up at the big purple mech. 

It was true, the senator of Tran, province of Kaon, had no face plates. He was imposing and scary, his plating a dully sparkling purple and his single optic yellow instead of blue or read. Then again, his own were not standard either. 

“I will leave you be now. We can talk more when you have settled in.” The big mech rose, passing him with a brief and surprisingly gentle touch to his shoulder pauldron. 

Perceptor walked stiffly to the berth and climbed, yes climbed, onto it. Two groons to his majority… the age of which his Code originator could demand of him that he bond someone for the benefit of the family. 

His spark felt cold and full of fear. The senator seemed nice, but he was so big, and he was from Kaon… Kaon’s warlord was known as a brute that had little want of culture or science…

Oh, how would be survive this?


	19. Doing one's duty...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 19\. Guarding the gates

I am one mech where we were thirteen. 

I am the last of the great guardians, or at least that is all I know. 

Primus had plans for us, and I know that all but one of us worked tiredlessly to fulfill those plans. 

Oh, my dear brother… Megatronus… how could he betray us? That is a mystery I have pondered over for eons. 

I even went back to see what it was that had made him betray us, but I could not figure it out no matter how many times I made that journey. Maybe that was his role, his destiny? It is not like I can ask Primus, though I have been tempted to go back and try. 

But I am the guardian. 

I was made to be the guardian and I will never falter till the day I stop functioning. My loyalty lies with my Creator despite what doubts and misgivings I have. 

Megatronus… he is the one that seeded the doubt and the misgivings. But it was Primus that gave us free will, feelings… 

Did he know that I loved him? That I would have given him my spark if he had but said that word back to me? Did he even know what I meant when I told him in that last fight, before he shed his name and became The Fallen?

Why is it that I must bear the burden of guilt. 

Why do I have to sorrow each orn, thinking that if I had told him sooner… things might have gone differently. Why was I blessed with perfect memory, cursed to always remember the moment where Megatronus turned his back on me, on all of us, and my faltering that allowed him to walk away unscratched. 

I could not raise my sword, I failed my brothers and sisters and for that failure they fell. Because of my weakness they all offlined. Because I loved too much… 

But Primus does not blame me. The guilt is entirely my own, I cannot shake it, I cannot stop feeling it and it becomes heavier with each orn.

I am the guardian of the gates of time. 

I am Vector Prime. 

I have lost…


	20. It is all just a game ;-)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 20\. Twenty Questions

Cyclonus wished that the berth was embedded in the side of his holding cell and not the back wall. He couldn’t turn his back to his greatest enemy, even though he intellectually knew that Ultra Magnus couldn’t get to him. The Autobot was as caught as he was.

The two cells were mirror images and it left them starring at each other from their respective berths. Uncomfortable and unrestful. Cyclonus had to applaud the Quintessons for their inventive torture methods. Assuming they knew what they had done…

“So?” He focused his optics on his enemy and lifted an optical ridge. 

“Do you normally recharge with the light on or off?” The quirk to the full pale dermas suggested that Ultra Magnus wasn’t expecting a reply, and all of a sudden Cyclonus felt the need to be… contrary. Usually he ignored such urges but… 

“I don’t usually, no. I prefer a more… cozy ambiance to my quarters.” Ultra Magnus flickered his optics once but otherwise didn’t show his surprise, if he was surprised at all. Despite him being the enemy, Cyclonus had great respect for the other mech. He hated him, but he had great respect for him. 

“I see. What might cozy constitute for you, then?” There was still that small quirk to the other’s dermas, it made it hard to look away from the full dermal plating. 

“Dim lights, nice thermal blankets… I have a certain fondness for pillows.” He inclined his helmet a little, wondering if his counterpart would give any information in return. 

“Hmm… pillows? I am rather partial to those myself.” Apparently he would, the quirk grew into a smile… it did not make it easier to ignore those dermas. Why had he never noticed them before? They were not a usual feature on most mechs, so full and soft looking.

“Let’s try a little game, Cyclonus… it seems neither of us will be getting any recharge anyway.” Flickering his own optics, he tore his optics from the mouth as it formed words in an almost sinful way. The way those dermas seemed to caress each sound… 

“It’s called ‘twenty questions to the professor’.”


	21. Taking a gamble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 21\. Gambling

“You shouldn’t be here.” The voice was cool, professional, and it sent little skitters of awareness down my spinal struts. I kept it from my expression though, casually tossing a few glowing disks onto the table, holding the holocards loosely in my other hand. 

“I am just here for a little recreation, nothing bad… I did learn my lesson.” I had learned a lot, which was why I was back again. The war was over, I was free to do what I wanted, and it was time to pursue the one thing that had made gallivanting all over the known galaxies worth it all.

Long time. He could have left, he could have been offlined. But that wouldn’t have been like him…

I had only had one dark cycle with him, and most of that had been spent yelling at him. Even that part had been unforgettable. But the real seller had been what happened when we were, mostly, quiet. 

“Recreation?” His voice alone was like a caress, rough and dark. He’d be laughing if he knew how he was perceived by me. But maybe that wasn’t bad… his laughter should be X rated. 

“Having fun, relaxing. There’s no war anymore, you know?” He knew… of course he did. We both knew, but as long as he was playing, I would play. 

“No, you are having fun, but you are not relaxing…” That was a purr, I knew it even before I felt the tip of a digit smooth down my back plates, just above my spinal array. He’d be able to offline me in a second… part of his attraction, I suppose. 

I like danger. I always liked danger, which had almost gotten me killed that first time we met. Not to mention those I called my friends and comrades. But he was more than danger to me. If that had been all, I wouldn’t have returned here!

“That is true… I’m not relaxing yet.” Soon though, oh yes, all I needed was for him to agree to it… but would he? He seemed keen enough to touch me. 

His answer came promptly enough, I relinquished my hold on the holocards easily enough and he tossed them to the table top. 

“Twenty-one, gentle mechs, and the game is at an end.” No one said anything against it and my winnings were tallied up right quick. I didn’t care.

After all, my gamble had already paid off…


	22. The safest approach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 22\. Twenty-two letters

Eleven pads were lying on his berth. The last one taunting him a bit… and he couldn’t decide if it was in a good way, or a bad. It had been all fun and games when it was simply an exchange of letters… 

Not names, not anything really personal, though it had in many ways been a more honest and naked exchange than any he had tried before. It had simply been easy, with no social limitations, no optics to meet with the fear of showing embarrassment. 

Prowl leaned back, a thoughtful, and somewhat troubled, expression on his normally so calm facial plates. 

This was a problem he’d not been foreseeing. 

_Will you meet me?_

Such an innocent question. 

When they wrote to each other, not mentioning names or rank, it was easy to give of the hidden depths. But meeting him? meeting his nameless almost-suitor… 

Prowl shook his helmet slowly, optics unfocused though still directed towards the eleven data pads on his berth. 

If he said no…

oOo

It was just a data pad. 

Number eleven. 

Twenty one in all… 

Huffing deeply he took it from the hiding place and activated it. 

A rejection was the worst that could happen, right? 

_Two orn from now, Earth time twelve forty-five pm, coordinates **29°57′53″N 90°4′14″W**_

Skydive’s wings flared and he had to fight the urge to let out a loud whoop of joy and victory. Somehow he hadn’t thought it would be accepted. Prowl was so much older than him, an officer… 

Well, technically it wasn’t a success yet, but it was a start. He would have to thank Cosmos for the idea of the letters, even though the minibot had no idea he had given it to him. Far too shy to approach the older, wiser second in command, he had simply been pining from afar until the cheerful minibot had told him how he had pen pals all over the planet. Humans he wrote with and chatted with while he was out in space and had no one else to talk to. 

Prowl could still just want to tell him in person that it wouldn’t become anything… 

But they had written eleven letters each…

Skydive refused to believe that that meant nothing. 

Twenty one long letters had to mean a lot!


	23. Story time!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 23\. The Legend of...

“Listen now and be quiet.” Big bright optics were locked on him and he couldn’t help the small satisfied huff that escaped him. It was good to be in this position again!

“The Legend of the first ones to walk on Cybertron, the legend of Thirteen.” He paused for effect and watched how the little ones squirmed, wanting to beg him to hurry up and yet knowing he would just tease them more if they spoke. 

“Prima was the first of them, the leader. He was the first Matrix bearer, the first to be called Prime. He never much used his title, knowing that all knew who he was when they heard his name. He was called the Warrior or Light and he wielded the great weapon called the Star Saber, a sentient blade that could split into three parts and had the Matrix of Leadership as its hilt.”

“Next came Megatronus Prime, the one we seldom name. He turned from his Creator and chose to follow the god of chaos, Unicron. Therefor we call him The Fallen, Warrior of Darkness, guardian of Entropy. His weapon is a blade of shadows and rust.” The little ones clicked a little, fearful as always of this particular part of the legend. 

“Vector Prime was the third of the first. Primus gave him a very special task, to guard time itself, to be the caretaker of space. His blade could cut open the very fabric of time and space, allowing him and anyone he chose to travel anywhere, any time.” 

“Nexus Prime, the first gestalt of five brothers where the guardian of Rarefied Energon, now who can tell me what that is?” Several small hands were lifted and he pointed to the little femme almost sitting right at his pedes.

“Is sparks! Carrier says so.” He smiled at her and she squealed in delight.

“Rarefied Energon is indeed the energy form that makes up our sparks. No one knows where to find it or why he was made to guard it, but it is said he was the first priest of Primus, and that he was meant to be the guardian of sparks, maybe the one that helped offlined mechs and femmes sparks find their new home in the Well of Allsparks.” 

“Then Primus Created Solus Prime. Solus Prime was t~,”

“First femme, first femme!” The little ones piped up gleefully.

“That she was, and the greatest of all weaponsmiths too. She made all their weapons, with the exception of the Star Saber.” Squeals and clicks of delight came from his avid audience. 

“Now, we don’t know much about the Liege Maximo but some say~” 

“I’m sorry, Kup, I have to steal your audience, it's time for their recharge.” Again he was interrupted, but he didn’t mind. Rodimus still looked a lot like the youngling who had once sat there listening to the same stories he was telling now. 

“It is fine, they can hear about the rest of the Thirteen tomorrow, see you soon.” They made big optics at both Rodimus and him, but eventually filed out to go to their recharge. He so enjoyed telling them all the old legends…


	24. Private Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 24\. Party

Red Alert watched the monitors showing the rec room. He’d had to sneak in and move some of the brightly colored decorations so that his cameras had free motion and he could see properly. It was normal for this time of the Earth rotation cycle. Everyone forgot that surveillance was important. 

Even he, to some degree, he had to admit that much! It was hard not to when everyone was so happy, when everyone was, for once, keeping peace. Even the Decepticons seemed to do less in this season… Not at the beginning of their stay here, but now? They hardly ever raided in December. 

Human holidays had a strange way of infecting them all, in a good way. It had been seven rotation cycles since the Decepticons had tried anything on a ‘Valentine's day’.

“Ya know… someorn ya should try and participate.” Smiling to himself he just shook his head, glad that Inferno always announced himself when large hands slid over his arm plating and he, chair and all, was hugged from behind. 

“It’s silly, ya sittn’ hear all alone? Ya could be down ther’ with all’a us.” Inferno was partly right, Teletraan one could do the surveillance just as well as he could. But there was one thing that Red Alert really didn’t want to miss out on about this special human holiday. 

It had somehow become their tradition, from when his glitch was really bad. Back when they were still living in the crashed Ark and not here at Autobot City. So much had happened to them that he could hardly say when it had become what they did… 

But it meant the world to him. 

“I know.” 

“Wella, here. Ah hope ya like it?” It was a small box, Inferno wasn’t one to advertise with huge gifts. He didn’t need to, Red Alert wasn’t fond of flashiness after all. 

The ribbon was easy enough to pull off and he carefully removed the lid to see what was inside. He huffed gently and smiled lovingly. He’d never dare taking it out of the box, he didn’t remove any of them from their boxes, but it was as beautiful as every one was. A delicate bubble of clear glass with the city scrape of… oh, Kaon this time. 

He had no idea where Inferno had them made, and he didn’t try to find out. This was their secret, their little party inside the bigger party. 

“An’ mah gift?” He laughed softly and put the lid back on the box. 

“I have it in our quarters, love, care to join me there?” Red Alert got up from his chair and kissed the kneeling mech for a moment before sauntering out of the surveillance room with a teasing sway of his hips.

Inferno followed him, as always.

It was their private little Christmas party.


	25. Wrapping is harder than unwrapping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 25\. Gift

Wrap it up in pretty paper. Curse that the flimsy material tears again and again under the manipulations of too strong metal fingers. 

He would give a lot to know how in the Pit Prowl always managed to do it neatly. For that matter it would have been just awesome to know who Smokescreen bribed to wrap his… That was perhaps uncharitable, it could be that his next oldest brother did it himself. 

He just wouldn’t bet on it. Anyway it wasn’t anything some colored duck tape wouldn’t fix up sort of neatly.

Okay, after the paper there was ribbons. They at least were sturdier than the paper! And pretty, really pretty and… oh, the thing was stuck in his finger joint! Okay, okay, no need to panic he could just cut it and try again.

And again. 

Again. 

Dang this was fragging hard! Woops… Prowl would chew him out if he heard him cuss like this, and then ground him. As much as he could anyway, it wasn’t that easy to enforce groundings in the middle of a war. Prowl always found a way though. 

Oh well, there it was, a little loopy maybe and sort of longish but it would work! Yes, it was pretty in that… ‘that artist with the melted things that Sunny had liked’ way. 

On to the next one, and the next one… wow, it really did get easier to do this. The ribbon didn’t want to help a lot though but it was on the wrapped up gifts though. 

Prowl always said that as long as you tried your best that was good enough! He’d done his very best choosing gifts that everyone would like and he had certainly given wrapping his best too. And it really wasn’t his fault that the paper was hard to wrap without tearing or that the ribbons kept getting stuck in his finger joints. 

oOo

“Hey, Prowler,” Jazz leaned against the seated mech’s shoulder, carefully keeping from touching the stiffly held doorwings.

“Don’t call me that,” the words were spoken in an absent tone lacking any bite that would have shown real annoyance or even anger.

“Come off it, Prowler, and tell me why you are so distracted?” finally the doorwings bobbed a little and the black and white former enforcer shook his head. 

“Bluestreak, Jazz, and I am trying not to show my amusement,” Jazz looked again and realized that the youngest Praxian was putting his gifts under the huge tree. It looked like colorful some-what-cubic-disastrous balls of wrapping paper, duck tape and ribbons. 

“Oh my…” 

“Precisely!”

**Author's Note:**

> Beta  
> Akzeal  
> Darkesong
> 
> _a few have not been beta'ed_


End file.
